Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Feb 16, 2013 4:33:59 GMT -5
There is no hesitation upon being given permission. Jeremiah strides to her side and his fingers go to work on loosening and removing the restraints. It’s an easy and common task, but he decides that the information of how common is irrelevant to conversation and if the ease and speed which he moves at artfully disposing of them isn’t enough to tell her what he’s left unsaid, well he just simply doesn’t find the effort to care. What does care to do is to lift her wrists gently and inspect them. “Making sure they weren’t too tight. Chaffing seems small, but it’s highly irritation and depending on patients they can become easily infected wounds.” But his voice is soft and he offers her a small smile. “I mostly have to worry about that with my less than cooperative and cleanly patients, I’m certain you will have no problem resisting the urge to lie in your own flith.”
He drops her wrists back upon the bed. “There’s no need anyway. Your wrists are fine.” He calmly steps over to the sink in the room to wash his hands thoroughly. “And perhaps you’re right, I offer no threat to you, but still it’s better than being rude and simply assuming I have the right to approach you. I believe lack of personal respect was a prime cause my former staff member,” if he seems troubled by how lightly he’s referring to a murder he’d just minutes ago been rather piqued at, he doesn’t show it. Instead he simply grabs shakes the water from his fingertips and turns back to face Ivy. “I don’t find you a curiosity. I find you interesting, obviously, but I’ve treated a man whose skin was made of clay, who could morph into shape he wished. I’ve treated a man whose simple touch could kill you because he could burn off your skin. So you, no. I’m certain you can do more than what I’ve thus far seen, but no, you’re not some specimen to simply be studied. I take a personal interest in all my patients. I find them fascinating and I highly doubt if we can be civil, you’ll have to claim that I don’t ‘give a damn’.” Perhaps his smile was more smirk, as if he certainly had patients he didn’t give a single mote of civility or care for. And there were. He had patients that he’d rather see die slowly while he watched, harbinger of their end, as the life slowly fled from limbs better locked in rigor and left.
Oh yes, Jeremiah had had patients whose existence was a waste of resource, space, and plain intelligence. Those most often found themselves exactly where Jeremiah wanted them: dead, gone, and unaccounted for, or claimed by natural causes. There were many of those to be found in a hospital—a slip up of medication for example. Then there were patients Jeremiah gave all his effort just to frazzle. Those that filled Jeremiah with dark nuggets of cruel, unadulterated joy whenever he managed to upset them. Then there was ones he just liked to pick at, challenge himself with, those he respected, but he knew just how much power he held over them. Then there were patients he genuinely cared for—most of these were outpatients. He was kind and eloquent to them. Yet he felt that Ivy, though not certain where she would ultimately, was not a patient he would find himself totally disregarding.
So he could leave the complexities of his relationships with patients unspoken of. He simply found a towel and dried his hands before nodding to the door. “I’ll inform the doctors not to enter this room and if you’d prefer I can have you moved to a cell instead of this room, if you feel the doctors are being impersonally rude with their interests in you.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Feb 18, 2013 19:57:47 GMT -5
True to what she said, Poison Ivy is quite passive as her restraints are removed and he glances over her wrists. Which is much less necessary than he might think: while she doesn't have true accelerated healing, anything that could cause an infection in anyone else can't touch her. And without the need to so much as fight off even the possibility that she might get infected she always heals quickly and easily. She could soak an open wound in sewer water and it would be the same to her as slathering it in antibiotic cream everyday. But she doesn't bother to explain all that to him, instead scoffing when he expresses his doubt in her desire to lay in her own filth and saying, "Hardly!"
When her wrists are free to uses as she wishes, she idly rubs them as if to confirm that they're no longer bound. Chafing or not, being unable to use your arms is highly unpleasant. And as she does so, she listens with a passive expression on her face as Dr. Arkham explains why he's basically not like the doctor she just killed. Hah, like she's going to really believe that! Then again, he's not really the same kind of doctor. And in a way, the death of the first got the urge to do so out of her system, so even if he was exactly the same she's less likely to kill again. "How open minded of you," is all she says, the slight monotone of her voice making it unclear if she's simply doesn't mean the words very strongly or is actually being sarcastic.
Though she does visibly take more of an interest when he comments about moving her elsewhere. "As I am perfectly healthy, I doubt that this is the proper place in this institution to keep me in any event," she comments idly, diplomatically indicating where she'd rather be while refraining from going further into the details of why she doesn't like it here. She despises hospitals, or any similar place that has the feel of one. This one is arguably worse than average, as a portion of the patients are the sort who are too mentally disturbed to keep themselves quiet when a woman is trying to think and ignore where she is.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Mar 10, 2013 22:00:59 GMT -5
Jeremiah offers Ivy another look over not proceeding out the door. Instead he steps back inside. “Yes, you’ve seemed to recover from the state that led you admittance here. I’m pleased at the quick recovery.” His smile is genuine as he speaks and makes his way back to her bedside. He offers her his hand. It’s a polite gesture. “How about I transport you to a room on my way to the kitchens? I will deliver your food to you there.”
She was socialite, or rather had been. He’d had no trouble surmising that she wouldn’t be lacking in personal hygiene. Perhaps those words had been meant as a tease. He really couldn’t help it sometimes. Not that his main purpose was to be antagonist, but it was like a wiring in his mind. He could seem polite and yet be insulting you. As to Poison Ivy, though, it’d been good-natured if he had been teasing her, otherwise there was no harm meant at all. That was the other side of his personality. He could be factual to a fault and that in of itself could come off as disrespectful. He also doesn’t give a rise to her comment of his ease of opinion. Not only he is not sure whether it was disbelief or sarcasm—just having spent this little of time with her coherent, he believes either equally likely—no matter how he chooses to respond it could be taken as offensive. Offending this woman, could kill him? Certainly not the agenda if he can help it.
So he changes the conversation to what she wants: a room. “I usually don't ask this, but I think both you and I would better off if I did. You did kill a doctor so I’ll have to put you in high security, but there are plenty of rooms on that wing. Do you have preference for let’s say: view? Anything of that sort?”
So he’s offered to escort her by himself to a room which she can choose herself, and offering to bring her food. There are other privileges she’ll be entitled to: she can have books, writing utensils, and recreational time—though policy would dictate he take that for a short time. Circumstances have to be taken into consideration.
Circumstances and building rapport with his newest patient.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 11, 2013 4:19:27 GMT -5
There's a subtle pursing of Poison Ivy's lips as Dr. Arkham comments on how she'd been when she arrived. She actually doesn't really remember arriving, and doesn't really want to think too deeply about why that would be. She remembers fighting Nightwing, the fight going more and more badly for her until she reached the point of exhausting her options and then... well, she remembers waking up tied to the hospital bed. In between she's not exactly sure what happened, but clearly she was brought to the asylum at some point in between. She does remember being angry. Very, very angry. But that's understandable, isn't it? Clearly she deserves none of this!
"Very well," she says to the idea of him taking her elsewhere, though she completely ignores his offered hand in favor of standing up entirely under her own power. And even in something as simple as getting out of the bed she proves that even if she is technically no longer a socialite, she's still one in all her mannerisms - at least when she's in possession of her senses. Back straight, head held high, every movement graceful without really having to think about it. Poor posture, awkwardness of any kind, and any hint of undignified behavior was carefully trained out of her as a child and refined throughout her teens. Partly because her parents demanded it, but also partly because most of the people she's ever associated with very much experienced the same training themselves. Never mind that someone's traded her rogue outfit for this ugly garment she presumes is some sort of standard patient uniform - she's the capitalist equivalent of a princess and carries herself as such regardless of her circumstances.
Which is a part of why it's actually quite difficult to actually offend or insult her. She is so far above the rabble she hardly cares what their idiotic opinions of her are. Of course, if those opinions are negative and loudly or repeatedly expressed, they are irritating - like mosquito bites they're unwanted and cause you to want to exterminate the pest that caused that irritation, even though one doesn't take the fact they were bitten personally. So let them throw her in an asylum and force her to endure all the associated hardship and indignities - none of that changes the fact that she's breathtakingly beautiful and extremely intelligent, even if they seem to mock both by putting her here and dressing her like this. Those external things hardly change who she is internally. Though she does find herself missing her heels - without them she's just a little shorter than Dr. Arkham rather than quite a bit taller, and she'd prefer it otherwise.
The question that he asks next, though it smacks of special treatment, causes her to sigh. Where she really wants to be is anywhere but here, but until she figures out exactly where she went wrong and how to fix it she's liable to wind up right back here again anyway. So what's the use of fighting it all? "No," she lies quietly, waving away the offer to choose her room. In other circumstances, she very much would prefer to choose where she stays - everything from the light levels to the air purity to the temperature can effect her mood and make it that much easier for her to be comfortable. But she doesn't deserve to be comfortable - not when her babies are dying because of her failure to protect them. The individual differences between the rooms in the high security area are unlikely to be that different anyway - none of them really adequate. Let him choose where her purgatory will be.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Mar 17, 2013 3:59:33 GMT -5
She deserves all of this. Even if Jeremiah can see the way her lips tighten, he knows she was in the right place for all the right reasons. Yet he refrains from commenting anymore on her arrival than he already had. He on the other hand is still awaiting the report of just how she’d ended up here, though Jeremiah’s not fool enough to believe the woman taken in the common police—she’d poisoned a doctor whilst lying in her bed. Her skills would require someone of higher grit than the Gotham Police. He knows Batman or part of his roost is responsible. Yet he doesn’t need that information. It doesn’t interest him. The psyche of the “Batfamily” perhaps intrigues him, but otherwise he’s not a gossip hen like the nurses.
There’s no reaction to her refusal of his hand. Again it’s something he doesn’t comment on. In fact Jeremiah’s hardly surprised and his hand falls back to his side and he crosses before her. It wouldn’t matter her appearance of mannerisms, Jeremiah also has his own. He came from the apex of society as well and has reminded there, being the doctor and director he is. He does, however, admire her etiquette and how despite all these circumstances he could imagine her in a cocktail dress, making business or other small talk at a socialite party rather than about to follow him through the halls of Arkham Asylum in the gown she’s wearing. He moves to open the door for her and reminds to allow her to pass through before he allows it to fall shut.
He once again takes the lead, ignoring the silence that has suddenly taken possession of the Medical Bay. He swipes his card at the entrance doors, holds it open for her again out of habit and they’re in the innards of Arkham Asylum. He finds the silence, unperturbing. He realizes he is the last person she wants to talk to and who can blame her? He’s able to gauge from her behavior that he believes herself higher than the Asylum, higher than diagnosis. Poison Ivy believes herself to be absolutely undeserving to be here. How many times he’d heard that; and it was never true. Yet she won’t believe him, he knows it and it is added into the list of things he declines on saying, but certainly thinks as the hush between them grows longer and their footsteps, the random call of another inmate, and conversation as other staff traverse the same halls play the part of their ambient noise. He walks a little ahead of her at all times. It allows her some space, but leaves enough that he can watch her and react if something goes wrong. They enter Intensive Treatment and Arkham pauses here for the most time since their departure from the Medical Bay.
Ivy is right, most of the cells are the same. It really won’t make any difference, but he chooses a cell with what he hopes is a decent view, which means good sunlight and holds the door again for her.
“Guards come in fifteen minute intervals. If you require something, just ask of them and they should be able to obtain it for you. Once you’re situated I’ll leave for your meal,” he informs her in a voice that belies that he does this often, this sort of talk after imprisonment.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 18, 2013 5:55:21 GMT -5
Though her expression remains largely neutral, there's a certain hint of satisfaction around it when Poison Ivy notes the quiet that has come over the medical facility and the somewhat wary glances being cast her way by a few of the staff as she follows Dr. Arkham. Gossip is quick and, while they're yet unaware that she's admitted her involvement in the sudden death of Dr. Coleman, those who pay more attention to the media would have heard of her expertise and habit in killing with poisons so there's plenty of room for suspicions. Especially when someone noticed that the asylum's director apparently went to speak to her even before their colleague was pronounced dead. And though she'd rather have them respect her than fear her, she does enjoy the benefits that come from either - she's a dangerous woman, and she likes people to remember that. In fact, when people fail to do so she rarely resists the impulse to take advantage of their idiocy.
Then again, the fact that she's now being led out of the wing, completely unrestrained and apparently very compliant, by Dr. Arkham is likely to prompt another string of rumors. But shortly they leave that branch of the asylum behind and along with it the mess that she caused there. Instead she finds herself being led through the maze of the asylum proper, giving her surroundings a glance simply because she's never seen them before - at least that she can recall - but not particularly bothered by them. This place is a cesspool of humanity, which she doesn't really care about, so why should any of it really matter to her?
But once they get to Intensive Treatment, there's another hint of that satisfaction to her expression - actually seeing the amount of security they seem to feel the need to subject her to has a similar effect to her mood as the wariness of the staff in the medical facility. All of it will be utterly useless in keeping her confined longer than she deigns to be, of course, but the fact that they're trying is somewhat of a compliment really. Though when they reach that one part of the facility that may actually matter to her, her mood falls even lower than before.
Unlike the dispassionate way that she'd followed him up to this point, there's a just noticeable hesitation before she steps into her new cell. Her eyes drift slowly over the minimal accommodations. This is what she's been reduced to? This barren, empty, hole? Not that she'd been expecting anything spectacular. Not that she's even still accustomed to the luxury she grew up with - her latest hideout is in a toxic waste dump, after all. But there she'd had her plants at least, and this is so... empty.
Abruptly, she takes a very long, deep breath. She hasn't cried in years - not since before a certain incident involving a former professor of hers - and even she is not fully certain whether it's because she's no longer able to do so or because she refuses to allow herself to do it. What would that expression of grief accomplish anyway? No, it simply takes her that breath to accept the room for what it is: torture, really. But nothing she can't live through. The humblest of seeds can wait for years underground for conditions to be right for them to grow, and so can she.
"Is there anything else I need to know?" she asks, her perfectly even tone revealing no emotion, though the quietness of her voice hints at her mood. She steps over to the window to see what she can see from there, though in the late evening twilight it can be difficult to tell what she's looking at. Even more difficult to tell is which direction she's looking, because though there's still hints of the sun's light in the sky, if it's above the horizon it's too late in the day for it to be where she can see it from here.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Apr 22, 2013 11:10:51 GMT -5
It may have appeared that Jeremiah was only paying attention to the situation at hand. Any who could have assessed his expression would have wrongly believed at first that he was focused on nothing more than placing her in her cell and then going about the task he’d continuously promised her, but in fact he’d been paying attention to everything but that. He already was geared to retrieve her food and need not have continued to remind himself of that subconsciously. Instead he’d been paying attention to Poison Ivy. He’d noted her air of satisfaction as they’d walked from the Medical Bay—he’d also taken his own satisfaction from the expressions of interest and awe that were only just subdued in the expressions of his staff. That she had had a hand in the death of their colleague and yet she had been well behaved and followed him out with no need of restraint was a fact he’d taken deep pleasure in.
He’d also noted her amusement at seeing how securely they were imprisoning her. He wasn’t aware of why it wouldn’t work, but if there was one thing that he’d learned as Arkham’s director over the years it would how not to underestimate the prisoners/patients here. They would try their best to get out and more often than not they would succeed. And looking at Ms. Ivy and remembering all he could about her, her expertise, and the simple way she held herself he knew that they would have to be careful with her lest she figure out a way out. Yet he already knew that if anyone amongst his current patients could get out, it would be her. He was confident, but not that much. Never underestimate the population here.
Jeremiah didn’t.
Yet what struck him most was the hesitation before she stepped in. His attention was immediately drawn to her as she took in her surroundings and he heard that exaggerated inhale. There it was then, finally the realization of where she was. In Arkham even the most considerate accommodations were sour at best—he had years of complaints to remind him of that. He went to lengths to be sure that even if the accommodations were sparse, they were the best they could be. Yet he knew how small and scarce one who was to be held here saw them. How couldn’t he?
Yet though he noticed her slight distress, he also knew she was trying very hard not to let it show and so if reveals itself in any context it’s in the tone of his voice as he lifted his gaze to hers and shook his head, “At the moment, I think you know all I can recall off the top of my head. I have to give this speech to every person entering accommodations here. I’ll go get you some food and if you have any questions I’ll answer them when I come back.”
And with that he left, closing the door behind her. He gave her one last look before he took himself and his footsteps down the hallway. It was about twenty minutes before he returned a salad and a carton of juice in his hands.
He entered the cell and sat it on a small outcrop from the wall that served as a table of sorts for the patient held there. “Sorry it’s sparse, but I do hope it’ll suffice.” He pulled a plastic-wrapped, plastic fork from his coat and sat it at the covered salad bowl’s side.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Apr 23, 2013 23:35:04 GMT -5
"Very well," Poison Ivy says simply as he leaves, as if giving her approval to his departure. She doesn't look away from it to watch him leave, and in fact doesn't step away from the window for quite some time after the click of the door informs her that he's gone. To put it simply, she needs some time to adjust to this sudden turn of her life - it was less than a day ago that she was back in her hideout, preparing herself for the night's ultimately disastrous activities. And as most of the time between now and then she can't remember for one reason or another, it's still like it all just happened to her.
Then again, in certain ways she's always been very tough mentally. By the time Dr. Arkham returns with her food, Poison Ivy is no longer standing at the window but lounging on her bed with a sort of arrogance around her. At some point during his absence she reminded herself that she's better than all of this, regardless of where they put her, so she ought to stop being so upset about it and make the most of it. It doesn't do her or any of her plants any good if she sits here mourning what she's lost. No, if not for herself but for her plants she needs to move forward. She will return to the streets of Gotham to fight for her cause!
But not yet. No, first she needs to analyze her mistakes and learn from them. She needs to figure out where she went wrong so that she can correct her flaws and never have to face this place again. Then she can put this chapter of her life behind her forever, let it pass from her memory like a bad dream - never to be thought about again. None of the vigilantes, not even Batman and especially not Nightwing, will be able to stand in her way.
In the meantime, while she's planning, she'll regretably have to stay here. There is no point of escape until she's figured out how to avoid her past mistakes. But again, that doesn't mean that the whole place isn't completely beneath her. This miserable room is hers? So be it! She'll take it, and take full advantage of it and any other resource they give her. Had they given her nothing at all she could have started from there, so being given anything at all just makes thing easier, doesn't it?
When Dr. Arkham returns, she watches him enter but her eyes skip easily from him to the bowl that he's carrying. She wasn't lying at all when she said she was hungry - she's certain that she'd starve if she went much longer without food. Still, she stands up from the bed at a calm pace. "If this is all you can offer, I can't very well as for better, can I?" she asks rhetorically, taking a few steps toward him but stopping while she still several feet away, "I have a few questions."
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on May 22, 2013 23:16:43 GMT -5
Jeremiah chooses not to say much as he enters the cell, though his silence isn’t cause for any alarm. He’s not suspicious of whether she would harm him or not—he figures were she, he’d have been dead already. Instead he simply pushes the bowl and plastic fork towards her and nods. “I’ll be sure to find a cook who can cater to your needs. It’s not so much special treatment as a need to provide for any and all special needs of my population. Despite what you may have done, I believe there is always still some choice.”
Perhaps in context as he lies down to sleep that night, he’ll find the situation ironic. An inmate capable and intelligent as Pamela Isley who despite the crimes she’s accused of has a preference for vegan meals. He’ll smile because people will find it strange. They will call her a monster and wonder why she has such a palate and Jeremiah will only smile. Despite all her deeds, there is still a human mind, a humanity about her. He may find it ironic, but not on account on the woman herself, but because he knows what other people will say behind his back. He already can feel the whispers of how he’s providing special accommodations for a patient.
The question is why shouldn’t he? All his patients are human or akin to it. They have feelings and wants and needs just like the rest of Gotham even if they lack the empathy exhibited by most.
Yet he pushes these thoughts aside and meets Ivy’s gaze. “I thought you would if I gave you any time to peruse your cell on your own. I do apologize that it is so sparse and cold.” He leans his shoulder against the wall. “What is it you’d like to ask,” he inquired. His expression is open and conveys that he is intent on listening thoroughly. He may not be sure he can answer, but he knows he will certainly try and if he can’t answer, he’ll find out how. So he gestures for her to ask and he waits.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on May 23, 2013 22:26:02 GMT -5
It's not that a part of Poison Ivy doesn't want to kill Dr. Arkham, it's that she doesn't much see the point. If she kills him she suspects that he'd only be replaced by someone else, and perhaps someone far less tolerable. And as long as he keeps granting what she knows are extremely reasonable requests, she might as well keep him alive. At least until the situation changes, as she's sure it will.
As he assures her that her requested diet will be given to her, she makes no comment - in fact her expression doesn't change at all as she lets the statement pass by her without apparent effect - though she's inwardly satisfied. She wasn't really worried about it not at least eventually being granted to her, but to get it without having to go to great lengths to convince them is quite nice. Especially since the request wasn't actually a dietary choice but a dietary requirement. If she was actually being picky just to be picky she'd have additionally demanded that her meal only contain ingredients that even the plant didn't have to die to provide, as that's quite possible but only if you're prepared to grow your own food or buy things that have been carefully harvested by hand. That's how she feeds herself at home, and she's quite happy to look down her nose at everyone else for having to kill plants to live. But she imagines that expecting the same here would be a much more difficult fight than simply stating she's vegan - she's more likely to get food she can actually eat that way. And perhaps she'll be able to convince them to cater more closely to her preferences later - for now she's actually trying really hard to 'get along'.
She doesn't actually say anything until she's invited to ask her questions, and she idly folds her arms as she says, "I imagine that this facility has a schedule I'm supposed to follow, rules I'm expected to pay attention to in order to avoid punishment, and ways of rewarding patients who cooperate with both. I would like to know the details about all of the above." Which she's guessing he'll take as kind of a mixed thing, because on the one hand she's being very quick to recognize that it's probably to her benefit to behave herself and he probably prefers that while on the other to say that so openly and so quickly after arriving probably hints that she's thinking of exploiting the system. All of which is completely true, but she thinks little enough of him to suppose that she can give him such clues about what she intends to do without helping him figure out any way to thwart her. Especially if the other option is to not reward her for good behavior since that gives her absolutely no reason to behave herself. And she's proved just how dangerous that is already.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Jun 12, 2013 1:09:21 GMT -5
It’s not anything new to Jeremiah to think about his own mortality. When one works at Arkham, you soon are met with that very reality: everything and everyone has an expiration date. There are some exceptions to this rule, but they are few in Jeremiah’s mind. And he’s not a fool. He knows he’s useful and he knows that could run out any moment, but just as it is with Ivy, the same arrangement is held towards him by plenty of his other patients. Some keep him breathing out of gain, others maybe out of pity, and still others because they want to prolong his suffering. He knows a few of last ones. They’re just biding their time until they craft the perfect way to do away with him.
He’s looking forward to those.
So to say Jeremiah isn’t afraid of death? He’s really not. He’s aware his straw could be up anytime. It’s not say he’d be happy about it. He has things he wants to do, people he wants to see fail, payback to issue, but if there is a person who recognizes how often dreams didn’t come true it’s him. So he’s just doing his job and in turn, doing what brings him the most benefit. Currently that would be acquiescing to her demands because they weren’t in truth outlandish. He considered them polite and quite reasonable, especially since he knew she could kill him if she really wanted something.
Her behavior to simply allow the illusion of control to continue intrigued him. He didn’t smirk, knowing that she was allowing him to believe he was in control. A woman who could kill so easily and stealthily and she was allowing him to place her in a cell and trusting him to retrieve her food? She was listening to him? Yes, he wasn’t fooled at all. Yet she certainly had his attention. He wanted to see her at work and so he could play dumb. Let this be his experiment as well.
He had simply watched her, awaiting her questions. Finally given it he smiles. It’s a kind smile and he couldn’t risk it being any wider because if he did, she’d know. She’d see his suspicions and in fact, see his pride. Her question does hint that she’s looking to use his system for her own gains, and that makes him inwardly smirk. He wants to watch her do it, and who he is to deny such a reasonable question? For it is her benefit to listen and follow the rules. Especially if she wants the freedom to do whatever she wants.
It’ll let him know just how dangerous she is, at least in part. Let him gauge her.
He straightens before he speaks, “I’d not kill any more staff as doing that is what earned you the placement here in Intensive Treatment. Not just your dossier. Killing, maiming, or any sort of injuring behavior towards staff or other inmates earns you time in Solitary Confinement. The length is determined on a case-by-case basis by the head guard depending on how badly the other party is injured. It ranges from five days at the minor infractions and only goes up from there. If attacked, however, I’d still not fight back; fighting back earns a lesser stint. About a one to three days in solitary” he begins to explain, hands moving just a bit as he does. “Respect the guards, they respect you. As I am aware of the circumstances of your attack against the doctor, behave yourself today and tomorrow and you’ll earn recreation privileges. You’ll be placed among with other inmates during a block of time ranging about two hours. Arkham Asylum is equipped with three recreation rooms: a television lounge with plenty of seating, a library, and a gym. All are supervised.”
He rubs his hands together considering the other topics a moment. “As of now, however, group meal privileges for you will be revoked. We’ll see how you do with recreation for a time before that’s offered and you can decline when it’s offered. You can have your meals brought here if you’d rather eat alone. As for other rewards,” he smiled, “every two weeks without incidence will gain you furnishings for your cell. Books, more bedding, whatever it is you’d like to request within reason. You are allowed mail and gifts, but all of them will be searched and inspected. Respect us, we respect you. Have good behavior and you’ll be given good rewards. Does that answer your question satisfactorily?”
It was a speech he’d often have to give incoming staff, which was more common than new inmates, though he made sure to keep up with modified version that was slated to be given to each new patient at Arkham at some point following their arrival and usually within the first week. He saw no use in prolonging it. The sooner they knew the rules, the sooner they knew how to behave in order to make it easy for them and the staff to get along.
Or in this case how to use the system to outsmart the system.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Jun 12, 2013 3:53:44 GMT -5
As he explains the rules, Poison Ivy remains largely passive. Standing there with her arms folded, she's clearly listening but her expression seems almost disinterested. She is, however, taking mental notes the entire time: it's hardly unexpected that hurting others would be frowned upon. She actually doesn't quite understand why that's the case - why does everyone always care so much when she removes someone not worth keeping around on this overpopulated planet? But just because she doesn't understand it doesn't mean that she isn't familiar with how people react.
But it does immediately occur to her that she should attempt to find ways to get other people to do her 'dirty work' if she can. It would probably even be easier here than she's used to, if the worst thing that they'll do to a person is throw them into solitary. Outside of this facility she has to deal with people who are afraid of prison and the death penalty - solitary doesn't sound nearly so bad, especially compared to the situation that they're in already.
Which is why it won't be any trouble for her to get along with the guards and other patients - if she intends to use them in order to get what she wants while still keeping her own hands apparently clean then she'll of course be getting along very well with them as she wins them over. It's only in what she'll tell them to do to others that she'll be unkind, and hopefully she'll not get caught as being the one who told them to do it. And barring that, she ought to be able to gain full privileges for herself while hardly being stopped from doing as she pleases in the least.
Especially since most of what she wants to do right now is simply sit around and feel sorry for herself - not that she'd admit that out loud in those words. And as it sounds as if sitting around doing nothing is more rewarded than frowned upon, at least in the short term she supposes that desire will only help her. She needs some time to think...
When he finally finishes his explanation, she nods but says, "Nearly. I suppose someone is going to want me to talk about my feelings at some point?" That will likely be an annoyance. Then again, many of her feelings she's perfectly happy to explain, though others she considers to be strictly private. And though she definitely wants to 'behave' as much as possible, she's not afraid to simply refuse to speak about certain subjects. Though that may also depend on whether or not she has any incentive to do so or not.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Jul 2, 2013 5:02:45 GMT -5
He could give her credit. Had he not been suspecting before her almost disinterest in expression would have made him think that, though she was listening, she found the answer droll. Any other doctor or guard may have then become less enthusiastic and their narrowed minds would have believed she had only asked to ask. Jeremiah knew better than to assume she’d simply posed the question to seem cooperative. He’d spoken to her in the infirmary and knew she was sharper than that. He knew who she was, or rather who she used to be. She was smart and with intelligence came the possibility for another more appropriate reason.
Jeremiah knew he was being manipulated. Yet wasn’t he always? The state would tell him that he had to do this, he had to make these changes and they’d sign off and tell him he was doing a good job while scratching their heads.
If his asylum was up to date on security, patient protocols, and everything that could be faulty how did they keep escaping? The answer was always the same: human error. Arkham Asylum had its by-the-book psychiatric patients, but it had the patients that were unclassified as well. Sociopaths and psychotics that didn’t fit the DSM-IV’s diagnoses, and there were some that Jeremiah doubted were less crazy than simply “evil” as society would them. Arkham Asylum was a haven for psychopaths and housed the best of the sickest, the brightest of the depraved. They were intelligent, they were ruthless, and they could see right through you. These patients could and did wrap their fingers around the part of you that was most delicate and they wretched. They abused your psyche. This had led to the joke that you didn’t have to be crazy to work at Arkham, but it helped.
So what did that say about its founder? The man who’d owned it since his release from medical school?
Jeremiah stopped this line of thought. It wasn’t because he was disturbed by it, but because he knew what it meant and he’d known that for a long time. He’d just come to accept it because even fear hadn’t stopped his enlightenment.
“Well yes and no,” he said with a smile at her question, “that someone will be me. I’m the psychiatrist assigned your case.” He’d not tell her that the reason why was because no one else had wanted to deal with her and so they’d left her for their boss. He’d become less resentful of that as the day had progressed—those other dolts wouldn’t have stood a chance he knows that now after seeing the doctor she’d murdered. “And while your emotion state is important to me and I won’t exactly sit down and ask you ‘about your feelings’,” he shook his head, “and this isn’t an interrogation. You don’t want to talk about something, you don’t have to. Therapy is to be conducive to both the administering and the participant. I’m sure there will be some trial and error at first, but a medium will be found and you can refuse to talk about whatever it is you wish. I do try and keep my promise of doctor-patient confidentiality.”
Of course, these promises were on a case-by-case basis. There were some patients he’d break confidence for or against, and there definitely some patients by which he refused to let them decline from talking. Though in the end, he’d never really had a problem getting the latter group to talk. When angry, Jeremiah had control of them all.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Jul 3, 2013 22:22:54 GMT -5
The slight lowering of Poison Ivy's eyelids is probably adequate for communicating how she feels about Dr. Arkham being assigned to her case. Unenthusiastic, but resigned. Obviously they were going to force someone upon her, and no matter who it is she's not going to like it. He's probably somewhere in the middle of the pack when it comes to people: on the one hand he's a man and one that seems to know a little too much about manipulation to make it easy, while on the other he's not a complete idiot and since when has she ever backed down from a challenge?
Not that she thinks that it's wise to use too many of her skills on the person in charge of the asylum - he's exactly the person who could use such knowledge against her if she makes a misstep. And while she doesn't think that she would, she wouldn't be here in the first place if she was at the top of her game, would she? It's better to simply be as bland of a patient as possible so that he doesn't spare too much attention on her. One might think that she'd enjoy the attention between various things like how she dresses and acts, but it's never been so much about the attention and more about the ability to manipulate. And sometimes making yourself ignorable is manipulative.
"Very well," she says with a sigh, and only now does she go over to the table where he's placed the salad and juice and seats herself there while eying the offerings without much enthusiasm. She's very hungry, but at the same time she's being offered... this? As she starts to gather together a mouthful of salad with the fork she asks, "Is there anything else for us to talk about?" If not, she's obviously ready to start into her meal, but then again if he feels the need to say anything more it's not like they can't talk while she's eating just as well. Or at least that's the appearance she'd give off - really she'd rather not having him around while she's eating, but she doesn't want to ignore her stomach any longer.
|
|
Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask
"All my life... I have been dancing on the edge of madness."
Player: Jere ~
Registered On: Mar 26, 2012 22:05:58 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 314
~ Relationship Status: The More the Merrier
~ Character Profile
|
|
Post by Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask on Jul 14, 2013 3:41:20 GMT -5
It’s not only her body language that speaks volumes it’s her sigh. He doesn’t respond to it except to stand and nod politely. He isn’t surprised she’s not pleased, then again he doesn’t think he’d be pleased with anyone here as a doctor, not in her shoes. But he does count himself the best and not because of the fact he’s vain. He knows Arkham inside and out and after seeing what she had done to the doctor in the Medical Bay, he believes himself most prepared. He may not be sure why she’s not deemed him irritating enough to warrant the same behavior, but he can and does hope it’s a good sign. He is also very knowledgeable about manipulation, but far from her ideas, it may actually make her time easier.
Jeremiah loves manipulation. He studies, perfects, and uses it often. In Arkham’s views it is less the patients he considers his subjects and more the other doctors. No, he knows he’s not a good man—no one knows just how many he’s played against the collection of rogues just to see how they fared, uncaring of their success or failure. He is a man of study and the human mind and it’s limits never disinterest him. How easy it was to manipulate a man and push him. It was best when he was pushed slowly, delicately until it was almost as if his fate was his own doing and any sign of Jeremiah’s involvement was unclear or absolutely gone. He may push the pendulum, but man kept it swaying.
All rumination on his part stops on this particular subject when Ivy speaks her mind, however. He straightens perceptively and after glancing at her meager meal, all he could offer, he shakes his head. He makes note to hire someone who can cater to her preference again. “No, nothing. I believe I’m finished and I’ll do the polite thing and not encroach on your meal any longer.” He nods to her and after a moment at the door, it opens and he walks out. He glances behind only once more to see her face before he shuts it behind him and his footsteps are perceivable as he walks away.
He smiles to himself as the cells begin passing him by. He thinks this will be interesting indeed.
|
|